Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Zoann swiped at a renegade tear, not wanting Matthew to see how emotional his words made her. But he’d been so sweet to her these past few days. Everything she’d always dreamed he could be and more. The vast differences in his personality from just a month ago eased her mind, made her want to give herself to him the way he wanted. Other than nightly kissing, he hadn’t tried to make love to her. But she was healing nicely. She couldn’t do anything too adventurous in bed, but she could consummate their marriage.

  Shocking how much she anticipated making love to him. She’d even gone to Meggie and requested advice on blowjobs.

  Zoann made her way to the chocolate-covered sofa, overflowing with red pillows, and sat, remembering Meggie’s reaction and hiding her chuckle.

  Meggie’s blush had tickled Zoann. “I can’t believe you still have the ability to turn so red over sex,” she’d laughed.

  Meggie had giggled and paused in reading a book to CJ in her bedroom. She’d been sitting on the floor, son in her lap, back against the bed. “One day, maybe. I just can’t seem to stop my reaction.”

  “If you haven’t stopped now, I doubt you ever will.” Zoann sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that her leg brushed Meggie’s shoulder. “If you’re not comfortable talking about it, I understand.”

  Tipping her head back, Meggie smiled, a spark of mischief in her eyes. She observed her son, then raised her pinkie. “So, um, put it in your mouth and, um, hollow out your cheeks. If you feel your teeth scraping on your skin, you’re doing it wrong,” she’d blurted, bouncing CJ in agitation.

  “A pinkie?” Zoann questioned with skepticism. “I’ve seen Christopher naked and—” Horrified at the admission and the memory, she’d snapped her mouth shut, embarrassed to her core.

  “Get a pickle. Just make sure it’s thick and long.”

  Zoann had fallen over in hysterics and thumped the side of Meggie’s head. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you just said that.”

  Meggie had collapsed in laughter, too, not helped when CJ began clapping and giggling with them. Christopher had opened the door and paused, staring at the two of them as if they’d lost their minds. And, maybe, they had, but the release of tension, the sheer naughtiness of it, had felt so good to Zoann.

  “What the fuck wrong with you two?”

  “Nothing, Christopher,” Meggie answered, swiping at her merry tears. She elbowed Zoann. “If you have big, old green teeth marks left behind, you’re doing it wrong.”

  Christopher had frowned at their additional laughter and cocked his head to the side, then he’d smirked and shook his head. He’d taken CJ into his arms. “Your ma and your aunt bein’ bad, huh, boy?” He’d leered at Meggie. “You ain’t gotta practice on shit, baby. You suck my di...” Her pitching the book against his legs had stopped him. Without a word, he’d taken CJ and left them alone, his laughter trailing behind them.

  A moment of peace and happiness had existed between Meggie and Christopher—and Zoann. She’d left not long afterwards. She hated pickles as much as she hated olives, so she’d confiscated a cucumber to practice.

  Now, the moment of truth had arrived.

  Matthew settled beside her. “Still thinking about Meggie?”

  “Kind of,” she mumbled, blushing herself.

  “Outlaw mad with Meggie because of you.”

  Christopher’s wish that he could say he would’ve given his life in place of Zoann’s rape. He hadn’t been able to because of Meggie. “Doesn’t he realize that anything can be overcome as long as he’s alive?”

  “He’s not stupid. He knows that. But, babe, the shit you went through—”

  “My God!” She shot to her feet and glared at him. “I’d go through it a hundred times if it meant my brother would live. Even if he hadn’t met Meggie. He’s being a fucking idiot. Meggie has been through enough. From the time they’ve met, it’s been bullshit. Doesn’t he want fucking peace between them?”

  Cocking his head to the side, Matthew studied her, a small smile touching his lips. “Maybe, you should tell him that.”

  “Maybe, he should be nice to Meggie again…” Her voice trailed off. “Wait! Is that why Kendall decided to stay away longer? And why Bailey left?”

  “Bailey left because Mortician being a fucking stingy asshole. Just for her, I considered letting that motherfucker off the hook but it’s the fucking principle. If he just admit his nose wide open behind her, I might forfeit the shit. But he got to fucking come to the conclusion Bailey more important than fucking money.”

  “Kendall?”

  He smirked and glanced at his watch. “John Boy on his flight to her right now. He coming back Monday morning just like us.”

  “So?”

  “So you’re right. We—me, Mortician, and Johnnie—had a quick meeting and decided Johnnie’s bitch might not be so safe around Outlaw at the moment.”

  “When we get home Monday, I’m talking to my supervisor,” she said, changing the subject. She’d try to get through to Christopher when she got back to the compound. Right now, she had to focus on her husband. Not only regarding sex but continuing the lines of communication that had opened between them.

  He got to his feet and headed for the door in the eastern corner, pausing to pick up their saddlebags. “Giving notice?”

  Her brow creased at his casual question. The meaning was by no means casual, though. She followed behind him and paused in the doorway, unable to believe the magnificent backdrop through the huge glass windows. The ever greens and distant snowcapped mountains looked like a scene from an artist’s brush. She dragged her gaze away to search Matthew’s face. “As in my resignation?”

  Turquoise eyes narrowed. “What the fuck do you think I mean?”

  “I’m not quitting my job.”

  “I want you on premises like Meggie.”

  “I’m not fucking quitting my job,” she repeated. “I like what I do.” Although she’d enjoyed helping with the boys. No. Amendment. She’d enjoyed trying to help with the boys. She and Meggie had even discussed Zoann one day opening a home healthcare business of her own. “I’m not quitting right now,” she modified.

  “You have me to take care of, Ryan, and the new baby,” Matthew yelled, not caring about her revision. “Motherfucking Moncette know where you at. Until we fucking take care of him, it’s not safe for you. Even if he wasn’t—”

  “What do you mean take care of him?” She’d expected some type of retaliation. There were rules involved and Moncette had broken every one of them, both lawful and lawless, but taking care of him sounded ominous and dangerous.

  “Puff, Moncette has to be put to ground.”

  She choked, her hand flying to her mouth. She made it to the bed and dropped heavily onto it.

  “For what he did to you, he has to die.”

  “You all could be…”

  “We could be a lot of things in this fucking situation,” Val agreed with a nod, sitting next to her. “Even if Outlaw thought about a less permanent retaliation before, after he found out what Cee Cee did to you, it’s not happening.”

  Zoann launched herself into Matthew’s arms, planting tiny little kisses all over his face, until she settled on his mouth and halted, her eyes flying open.

  He opened his mouth and tapped her lips with his tongue, seeking entry. She allowed him in and he kissed her with hunger, the sweep of his tongue and his soft grunts sending her reeling and almost stealing her breath.

  Determination filled her. In life, second chances were rare, third or fourth chances all but non-existent. She’d been given a gift, a second chance with her brother, a third chance at life and a fourth chance with Matthew.

  He moved fast, overpowering her with his need, just as he always did. She pulled away and buried her face into his neck. She’d been on the road for hours and needed to clean up while contemplating her next move. “I need a shower.”

  Defeat filled his sigh. “Okay, Puff.”

  He’d misunderstood her. He thought
she intended to push him away.

  “You’re pregnant,” he said before she could correct him. “You’re not supposed to take baths, you know?”

  She frowned. What was he talking about? She’d said a shower. “What?”

  “I’ve been looking up that shit online,” he answered, his skin warming beneath her cheek. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and studied his boots. “I was more than a motherfucker to you when you were pregnant with Ryan. I want to make that up to you. All the shit you did to me? You had every right. I wasn’t even at the hospital with you when he was born.”

  “I didn’t have him in a hospital,” she admitted, then bit the inside of her cheek to stifle any more words. She stood and grabbed the saddlebag she’d stuffed her clothes into, ignoring his confusion. “A bath is fine, as long as the temperature isn’t too high,” she explained hastily.

  “What do you mean you didn’t have him in a hospital? Where the fuck you had him?”

  She stacked her four sets of panties and bras in one pile, refusing to look at him. “At my house,” she answered casually, shaking out the wrinkles in her top and refolding it. “In my bath tub.”

  She considered the silence after that statement good. He wasn’t diving off the deep end. He wasn’t consumed with horror or guilt or—

  “What. In. Holy. Fuck. Do. You. Fucking. Mean?”

  She smoothed her fingers over her yoga pants and dropped them on top of the other pair she’d brought, along with the jeans she’d wear to return home. Lifting the saddlebag and burying her head in it to make sure nothing had been forgotten at the bottom, she ignored Matthew, damning her tongue.

  The saddlebag flew out of her hand and she jerked her head up, inching back at the blazing anger on Matthew’s face. “Answer me, goddamn it. Saddlebag not deep and it sure as fuck not that fucking interesting. You had Ryan in a fucking bathtub? Are you shitting me? You’re a fucking nurse. You, of all fucking people, know all the shit that can go wrong during a baby being born.”

  Her temper flaring, Zoann jabbed Matthew’s chest. “Fuck off. He was born over three weeks’ early, asshole. I was fucking alone in my house with no fucking cell phone reception because it was storming.”

  He staggered back, the pain crossing his features hurting her, the melancholy she hadn’t recognized in him until he’d told her his story darkening his eyes. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he sat on the bed, hanging his head in his hands.

  “God, Zoann. I’m…” He swallowed in heavy despair. “I’m so sorry, Puff. What kind of a motherfucker am I? I left you all alone. You could’ve died. He could’ve died.”

  Zoann stepped closer to him and tugged his hands away from his face, inching between his legs when he relaxed his body a fraction. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed his face against her chest. She wouldn’t tell him right now, how Ryan had stopped breathing. That would come later, once Matthew realized they didn’t need to dwell on the past. It was over now. “We didn’t,” she said simply and kissed the top of his head. “I survived to terrorize you another day. Your son survived to melt your heart with his smiles. Don’t think about what could’ve happened. It didn’t.”

  “No wonder you hated me.”

  “I don’t think I ever truly hated you.”

  He hugged her and heaved in a deep breath. “Sometimes, I hate them,” he admitted. “Sometimes, I think they turned me into an addict.” He stared at her, regret written in his eyes. “I used drugs for a long time, Zoann. I did it…Fuck…I don’t know why. It made me forget everything.” He pointed to his teardrop tat. “For my mother. I think about her sometimes. When I watch you with Ryan. I can’t ever remember her being so protective of me.” He shrugged and laughed, hard and hollow. “I don’t mean to whine like a bitch, Puff. It’s just…thank you for loving my son like you do. For seeing something in me…Jesus, I don’t know what…but whatever it was, you kept him.” Releasing her, he got to his feet and started for the door. “I’m sorry to tell you this after I forced you into marrying me. I-I should’ve…I didn’t want to lose you. But the truth of the matter is, I didn’t deserve you in the first fucking place.”

  Spinning on her heel, Zoann rushed behind Matthew and caught him right outside the door. She grabbed his hands, her heart turning over at the sight of his wedding band. “Do you still use?”

  He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “Outlaw…Outlaw found out and—”

  She gasped, understanding dawning. “He shot you, didn’t he?”

  Shame stamped his expression, breaking Zoann’s heart. “He had every right to. Trust me.”

  “He also beat you up.” It wasn’t a question. “I don’t understand. Aren’t some of the members users?”

  “None of us who handle shipments. We can’t pop away the fucking merchandise.”

  Pop? “You used pills?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where’d you get them from? I-I mean if not from the club…” Her voice trailed off and April’s face came to mind. She stayed around Matthew, always looking as if she held the key to him. “April.”

  “Mostly,” he admitted, clenching his jaw and looking over her head. “Some of the other girls I slept with, too.” He scratched behind his ear. “I-I even needed—” He paused and swallowed, humiliation dampening his eyes. “I needed Viagra, sometimes.”

  Zoann’s gaze dropped to his groin.

  “All the pills and the alcohol…fuck. I’d stopped using for a long time. Before, I did all kinds of shit. Then another eye-opening event happened and I stopped. But, then I got shot, and I got hooked again. I-I couldn’t deal with shit. The way I’d treated you. The way you were treating me. I know it sounds like excuses. Maybe, it is. I don’t know. No reason I should ever touch the shit.”

  “Not excuses,” she said slowly. “Some people are genetically coded for addiction, Matthew.” She caressed the curve of his strong jaw. “I want to say I’m angry at Christopher for shooting you, but—”

  “But it worked, babe. Motherfucker have to keep us unruly fuckheads in line and he does it however he got to.”

  She thumbed his lips. “He’s pretty unruly himself.”

  Relaxing a little, Matthew snorted. “Outlaw a fucking wild man.”

  Unable to refute that, Zoann nodded. “Yes, but he takes his obligations seriously. But—and I love him—I want to talk about you. We go through things, Matthew, but we end up stronger and wiser for it.” She massaged his tear drop tat. “She was your mother. You have every right to mourn her.”

  “My old man, too. They did what they could. Loved me how they knew how. And…and…I know the shit they did was wrong, but I loved them, too.”

  “They were your parents,” she said softly, hating them. They’d abused Matthew. Plain and simple. But she couldn’t take away the fact that they were his parents and…”They kept you clothed. They kept you fed. They kept you in school.” They just also kept him immersed in sex.

  As if he read her mind, he touched his forehead to hers. “Zoann, I promise I’ll never cheat on you. I-I love you. I’m going to make mistakes. This is all so new to me. But my mistakes won’t ever be over another woman or any drugs. I want to be who you and my children need.”

  “Oh God,” she whispered, bursting into tears and planting wet, sloppy kisses all over his face. “I love you, too, Matthew.”

  He buried his face in the crook of her neck and they clung to each other.

  “Puff,” he whispered after a moment. “Remember what you said about where you wanted to honeymoon?”

  Zoann thought back to the day she and Kendall had fought and the aftermath when she’d been in Matthew’s room. She’d told him about her dream of staying in a log cabin with…oh my God! Just like that, the heaviness between them floated away. She squealed and bounced into his arms. “You didn’t!”

  Chuckling in relief, he dragged her back into the bedroom. “I can’t convince you to take a shower, can I?” he teased. “I can wash your back.”

&n
bsp; “As if you would,” she countered with a girlish giggle. “Is it a big tub?”

  “Yes, Zoann,” he answered with a trace of irritation. “It was hard finding a fucking mountain resort with a big ass tub, I want you to know. You intend to swim in it?”

  Her pulse kicked up. Matthew had promised he’d let her take the lead and she always relaxed the most while soaking in a bathtub, since it was such a rare occurrence. She hadn’t really considered who she’d have in the tub with her in her log cabin, although, reflecting on it now, she realized she’d always dreamed it would be Matthew.

  He lifted a brow, then narrowed his eyes in question, his obscenely long lashes framing his gorgeous eyes.

  She twisted her fingers. “I want you to get in with me. I-I mean if you want to,” she added at the surprise blooming on his face.

  “I want whatever you do.” He pointed to the bed. “Rest while I draw the bath.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” She giggled again, a bundle of nerves, and shook her head. “Wait, I don’t have bubble bath.”

  “In my saddlebag I have shower stuff.”

  “You’re going to have me smelling like a guy.”

  He tightened his hold on her, his look of possession unlike any she’d ever known. “If you don’t smell like me, I don’t want you smelling like a fucking guy,” he said fiercely.

  He bent and nibbled her neck, sending a little tremble through her. He kissed her again and caressed her breasts through her clothes before pulling away with a chuckle and heading to the bathroom.

  Unable to sit quietly while Matthew readied their bath, Zoann groaned, her face heating at the belly-clenching desire pooling in her. She never thought she’d feel brave enough to have sex, but she had and she’d survived to have sex with Matthew several times.

  God, God, God. She wanted to be enough for him and give him what he needed and wanted, too. What she wanted, as well. Maybe, she should let him lead this. While it was sweet that he’d given her the control, she needed to push herself out of her comfort zone. All she had to do was give the word and he’d pounce.